


A place to rest my head

by notsowriterly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras is good with kids but bad with people, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, My two lovelies..., pining!grantaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:58:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowriterly/pseuds/notsowriterly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Grantaire had kids, he would tell them the truth. That there is no Santa Claus, and there is no Tooth Fairy, that tyrants rule and the poor stays poor, that life sucks, and to cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it. That he was barely getting by on his starving artist salary, and that the beautiful Apollo he's been dying over doesn't even spare him a glance, because that's how life goes, beautiful people end up with beautiful people, and the rest will just have to make do, (so it kind of sucks that they have his genes). If Grantaire had kids, he would tell them the truth about all the horrible things in the world they had to look forward to.<br/>So it's kind of a good thing he doesn't have kids. <br/>Until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'm pretty sure that description kind of sucks because it makes Grantaire sound like some kind of horrible dream crusher (He isn't, sh, no, don't listen to Enjolras, Enjolras has no idea what he's talking about) and I swear, I didn't make him emotionally traumatize small childeren. I'm not THAT mean. I think.

Grantaire isn’t drunk. That’s possibly because it’s a good day, and it happens to be noon, and Jehan is blushing about Courfeyrac and trying to deny the fact that he writes sonnets about him, even though Jehan writes sonnets about everything.

Either way, it’s the first good day since last wednesday, when Les Amis all went to the park and Grantaire managed a moment with Enjolras alone, walking to nowhere, no fighting, no fuming silences, just peace. And then the day after he argued with Enjolras and got that look, the one when Enjolras doesn’t look angry or irritated, but disappointed, as if he expects more from Grantaire, and that look is the one that always ends up sticking in his mind when he drinks himself to oblivion.

Jehan splutters as they walk up the stairs to Grantaire’s apartment. “T-that’s not about him, why would you think that?” The flowers in his hair are daisies, and he’s wearing a typical Jehan outfit, like a pastel experiment gone wrong.

Grantaire grins as they reach the proper floor, stepping up to the door. “Possibly because you’re blushing like Marius when he talks about that pretty blonde girl he always sees at the park, and you’re nervously fiddling with your braid?” He gives said braid a playful yank before pressing his key into the lock, and Jehan scowls ineffectively.

“Am no--” He cuts off when they finally make it into the apartment, and Grantaire can immediately see why. His room mate, Eponine isn’t alone. There’s a doe eyed blonde woman sitting on the couch, and beside her is a kid that is definitely not Gavroche. Which is weird. The woman definitely looks like a social worker, and Grantaire has plenty of experience with them since Eponine started battling for the custody of her brother and sister. Gaining custody meant Grantaire moving in with Jehan, which is why they were here, to pick up more of the boxes scattered around the apartment. But none of that explained why the woman was here, or who was kid hiding behind her skirts.

“Monsieur Grantaire?”

Grantaire’s eyes to Eponine, but her face looks blank. Which isn’t a good sign. He looks back at the blonde woman, raising an eyebrow. “That’s me.”

The woman gives him a kind smile. “My name is Cosette. Cosette Valjean.” She moves forward to take his hand, and he shakes it hesitantly.

“Are you here about Gavroche and Azelma? Because I’m moving out, so it shouldn’t be any sort of problem--”

Cosette shakes her head. “No, no, I don’t know anything about that. I’m here for you. I want you to meet someone.” She tugs the kid out from behind her, and the first thing Grantaire notices is that look, the one he saw when he was a kid, looking in the mirror after his father passed out on the sofa, counting the new bruises and wondering when the next would be. The look makes his stomach turn unpleasantly. But then he catches sight of the rest of him, and his stomach turns for completely different reasons.

“What the--” He can’t breathe, and he stumbles backwards and nearly trips over the boxes in his haste to get away.

The eyes are different, but that’s all that is, he has Grantaire’s hair and the slope of the nose, even having the same ridge from being broken once. Even if Cosette doesn’t say, “This is your son, Grantaire,” he knows, the way he knows his own face in the mirror in the morning.

“This can’t...he can’t…” Jehan  grips his shoulders.

“Grantaire, Grantaire, breathe. Match my breathing, come on. In and out.”

Right. Breathing. That was a thing, right? He breathes as Jehan tells him to, sinking to the ground, and curling his hands into fists. The kid disappears behind Cosette’s skirts again, which is just as well, because if Grantaire sees him again, it might just tip him into a panic attack. He looks up at them all. “Please don’t tell me he’s going to stay with me from now on.”

\------

The kid’s staying with him from now on. Apparently his name is Ariel. Which, as far as Grantaire knew, was a girl’s name, but Grantaire seems to be out of the loop for a lot of things.

Like the fact he had a kid in the first place.

He’s seven years old, which meant Grantaire was fucking nineteen when the kid was born, and he doesn’t say one word to anyone at all, just clutches a book between his hands, a battered copy of Othello that makes Grantaire raise an eyebrow and Jehan bite his lip like he’s trying to desist from giving this kid a literary analysis. Cosette rides in the back with the kid’s suit case, and Jehan’s driving. Grantaire’s trying not to throw up.

He’s going to be a horrible father, he knows it, he tells Cosette with absolute certainty, but she shakes her head and gives him a patient smile, and let’s him know that this is just a month trial period, or else Ariel goes to foster care, and she seems reluctant to that idea for some reason, as if leaving this kid with a certified drunk is somehow much better. He tries to convince himself that seeing this kid go will make everything alright again, make his world tip back onto his axis. He’s practiced in lying to himself, but not to this extent.

Jehan leads them upstairs, and it’s like a funeral promenade, completely silent. Grantaire follows numbly, and once he gets inside, he sinks to the couch, cradling his head in his hands as Jehan and Cosette lead Ariel into the other bedroom.

Enjolras will hate him, even more than he already does. He was right, right about all of it, and now this kid will know it, will suffer because of it--hell, he already did, Grantaire can see it in his eyes.

“Grantaire?” Jehan sits next to him, and rubs reassuring circles on his back. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

\-------

The kid wakes up screaming. Grantaire falls off of the couch with a thump, and it takes him a moment to respond, scampering over to where the kid is sleeping in his bedroom. He opens the door, and Ariel’s eyes go wide, and makes himself into a ball on the corner of the bed. He’s shaking, and Grantaire feels a pang of empathy.

“I’m sorry...I-I’m sorry…” It’s first time the kid even tried to speak to him, and Grantaire notices the voice, at least, doesn’t remind him of his childhood. Grantaire’s voice has always been hoarse, even as a kid, but this kid’s voice is soft, and high like a harp. Grantaire flicks on the lights, and the kid cowers even further, like he’s afraid the light’s going to burn him.

Grantaire pauses a moment, at loss. It’s not like he figured out any healthy methods to cope with nightmares. He just learned to be silent, then to be drunk. But he’s guessing that coaxing the kid into either option would be considered “bad parenting,” so he moves slowly and sits on the opposite corner of the bed, seeing the boy flinch before curling on further into himself. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so he just stays there, silently, all through out the night, until both of them fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He lost his kid. He can't believe he  _lost_ his kid. 

It was two seconds. Two seconds of him disappearing into the back room of the cafe to clock out, and the kid was just  _gone_. Nobody even saw him leave, and now Grantaire was panicking. 

He  _told_ Cosette. He told her that he was a horrible father. Who in the world saw Grantaire and thought, C _ertified drunk? Resident cynic? Starving artist? There's an A+ candidate for fatherhood!_ He could barely figure out his own life, let alone care for some one else. First three days, and he was already failing. And Cosette wanted Grantaire to keep Ariel for a  _month_. Just the thought of it was going to send Grantaire into a full blown panic attack. 

Not that  _that_ was saying much, Grantaire seemed to be on the edge of one already. He checked the entire cafe, the shops on either side, asked everyone whether they saw a curly haired kid passing by, but everyone just shook their head and fixed Grantaire with fake sympathetic looks, like,  _You lost your kid? Oh, darn_. Grantaire was ready to punch all of them in the face. He was two seconds from calling Jehan and freaking out completely, when he heard it. 

Laughter. High pitched and sweet and unmistakably Ariel's. The relief was almost palpable. He followed the sound, already mentally preparing the mother of all lectures he was about to bestow upon this kid, when he finally caught sight of Ariel and froze. It wasn't the sight of a legit  _smile_ on the boy's face. It was who he was talking to. 

 _Enjolras_. 

All the blood in Grantaire's veins turned into ice. He wasn't ready. He was planning on having  _time_ , goddamit, time and preparation to finally have Enjolras hate him completely. He wasn't planning on Enjolras seeing his kid, and--His mind went completely blank for a moment as Enjolras smiled, looking soft, his lips opening and widening at something Ariel said, his panic slipping away to give into shock. Enjolras was smiling? 

He figured Enjolras would be horrible with kids, given his complete obliviousness to anything resembling human emotion. Lord knows as soon as a the kid mentioned something as innocent as Christmas, Enjolras would go off on a lecture on why Christmas was just a feeding ground for consumerism, and completely encouraged capitalism, and something, something, something, until he finally landed on the topic of the starving children in Africa. And there would be no stopping him then, would there. The kid would be standing there until he was completely brain washed and ready to hold a protest sign. 

But Enjolras didn't seem to be doing anything like that. He was smiling and high fiving and overall trying his best to make Grantaire melt into a puddle on the floor. Grantaire was loathe to break the peace, but then he took a step back and a twig cracked underneath his foot, and both Enjolras and Ariel froze, looking up. Ariel caught sight of Grantaire, and his face drained of color, his shoulders hunching into themselves, his feet tripping over themselves in his haste to get to Grantaire's side. 

"I'm sorry! I just--I didn't know where you were, and the man said you left, and--I didn't know where to find you so I-I went out and looked, but no one said they'd seen you so I tried the park but no one here said they'd seen you either, and I don't know your full name, everybody just calls you Grantaire or R, but R could stand for anything, couldn't it?--A-and then I crashed into _him_ and I was just trying to find you, I swear, I'm sorry, I didn't--" 

Grantaire went to hold up his hands in a "whoa there" gesture, but then Ariel flinched, his babble cutting off abruptly into whimpers, and Grantaire froze mid-gesture, his eyes rising up to meet Enjolras's. The sweet expression he had before was nowhere  _near_ Enjolras's face. He looked furious. At Grantaire. Grantaire's heart sank. He knew Enjolras thought low of him, but he couldn't believe Enjolras would believe that he would hit his own kid. Grantaire didn't know whether the twisted coil in his stomach was anger, hurt, or guilt, but either way, he was feeling the overwhelming urge to run.  He brought his hands back to his sides so fast they slapped his thighs, and finally managed to choke out, "It's fine. It's--Never mind." Ariel looked up at him uncertainly, and Grantaire tried to school his features into some kind of reassurance, but instead, he ended up grimacing in a way that made Ariel look even more close to panicking. Grantaire could relate. "Let's go home."

He tried not to look at Enjolras, and held his hand out for Ariel to take, which he did hesitantly, his grip light at first, then bone-breakingly tight. Grantaire let out a shuddering breath, and nodded, turning to leave, stupidly assuming he'd escape from this situation unscathed. 

"Grantaire." 

His voice was blank in the way that Grantaire knew personally was the way he sounded when he was so angry he needed to completely withdraw into himself to keep from exploding. Grantaire also knew what happened when he  _did_ explode, something that he definitely did not have energy for today, and something he'd rather not subject Ariel to. 

So he turned around. 

"Yes?" 

"May I talk to you? Alone?" His voice was tight, carefully controlled, and Grantaire looked down at Ariel to gauge his reaction. He was wide eyed, but that didn't really say much. Ariel was wide eyed most of the time, in fear, wonder, submission. Grantaire vaguely wondered whether that was due to his emotion or a weird family trait that caused his eyes to be perpetually wide. Maybe his mother had the same eyes, he didn't remember. Though he didn't really think so. Nineteen was around the time that he met Enjolras, and he'd only been able to stomach going home with blue eyed blondes since.

"Go sit on that bench there. Read or something, I'll be right back, okay?" He said, and Ariel nodded, clutching his book tightly to him and scampering off to go sit on the bench. 

Enjolras looked almost like he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue. 

Not for long, though. Not long enough. 

"I can't believe you." 

"Look, Apollo-"

"No. Don't you 'look, Apollo' me as if he's another bill or protest you don't agree with. He's a  _human_. A living, breathing thing, that you have to care for, and have you seen him? Have you seen yourself?" 

Grantaire felt anger rise, bitter as battery acid, up his throat. "Yes, in case you didn't notice, I have. And I'm not that vile as to hit my own kid, however low you think of me-"

"That has nothing to do with that! But if you had a kid and you left him to that kind of person, that's another thing I wouldn't have believed you were cruel enough to be capable of-"

"I found about him three days ago, when Child Services dropped him off at my door." 

Enjolras pauses. "And you thought you were capable of taking care of him?" 

Grantaire wants to punch Enjolras in his stupid, beautiful face. Never mind the fact that Grantaire thinks he sucked at parenting, for Enjolras to call him out on it hurt. "Are you talking about the drinking? Because I'll have you know I haven't touched a drop since that kid entered my home, seeing as the sight of it makes him look like he's trying not to scream-" 

"I'm talking about the fact that you've never even  _liked_ kids." Grantaire stops abruptly. "He can  _tell_ , Grantaire. I can see it on his face. And seeing the consequences he's faced before because of someone not liking him, can you blame him for being scared of you? He's been scared for a long time, and now he's still scared when he shouldn't be. Is that exactly the type of environment he should be raised in?"  _  
_

It's like Enjolras takes satisfaction in voicing out every single one of Grantaire's fears. Grantaire curls onto himself, belatedly realizing how the action makes him seem like Ariel, and straightening up. He wasn't that kid anymore. He was an adult, his father was dead. It shouldn't have taken him so long to remember that. He bit his lip. "I don't know how to...I can't...He's so small, and fragile, and he _needs things,_ and he's just like me, and you of all people know how good I am at dealing with myself, right?" Enjolras would understand. Enjolras was naive in everything except Grantaire, he knew just how fucked up Grantaire was, made a point to point it out at every opportunity, unlike all of his friends, who went under the misinterpretation that he was some kind of "good person." But this time, Enjolras is shaking his head, and Grantaire feels like he's drowning again. 

"What do you mean, me of all people? And if you thought so, why'd you accept?" 

Grantaire is pretty sure Enjolras is being purposefully obtuse with the first question, so he ignores that and answers the second in the most honest way he could. "I don't know." 

Enjolras wears that expression again, and that disappointed one, always almost slightly surprise, as if he truly wasn't expecting Grantaire to be this much of an asshole. Grantaire's fingers itch for a drink, and it's with sheer willpower that he doesn't have, that he manages not to give into the urge to run and find the nearest bar. "Stay with me." 

Okay, that was _completely_ unexpected. "What?"

"You don't know how to take care of him, let me teach you. You and Ariel should stay with me for a week. Courfeyrac would appreciate the opportunity to stay with Jehan, and you...you both need this." 

"Cosette said he's staying with me for a month. Nothing more." Grantaire says numbly. What is happening. What the fuck is actually happening. He's dropping into an alternate universe, one where he has kids, and Enjolras actually volunteers to spend time with him by his own accord. 

"At least make this month a good one for him, then, Grantaire, please. Look at him." Grantaire doesn't look, but Enjolras does, and Grantaire can see his face, the softening of his eyes, the quirk of his mouth like he can't help it, and Grantaire is  _not_ jealous of his own kid, okay? Not happening. Even though Enjolras seems so completely gone on Ariel that Grantaire can see his marble countenance breaking apart. He knows that he'd beg to see that look on Enjolras's face for the rest of his life. So it's with that sheer amount of stupidity that he accepts. 

"Okay. For a week. We'll stay." 

\-----

When he tells Ariel, Ariel tries very hard not to light up. But Grantaire can see him smiling when he thinks Grantaire's not looking, and that fact makes him equal parts elated and sick. 

 _He's been scared for a long time, and now he's still scared when he shouldn't be_. 

He'd been drowning in his own demons this entire time, and didn't even stop to think about Ariel's. He knows what it must be like. For a brief couple of months in senior year, he was shipped off too his grandfather's home when his father died. His grandfather wasn't spectacularly kind. He ignored Grantaire, and Grantaire ignored him, then, by some miracle, ended up with a scholarship to college and never really saw him again, in a mutual agreement. Just because it wasn't his father, didn't exactly make his grandpa  _good_ in his eyes. He just...was. And Grantaire knows he's not good, not the way Enjolras wants him to be, but Ariel deserved good, especially since it was all Grantaire's fault that he was born in the place. Just for this month. Grantaire could manage a month. Right?  _  
_

He didn't like hoping things, on principle, but stupidly, he began to hope that he wouldn't fuck this up, this one, small thing.

What an idiot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was a bitch to write. I'm still not sure exactly whether it came out right, and I know you guys are probably looking for more Ariel and Enjolras cuddling and being adorable, but unfortunately, you're going to have to wait till next chapter :(   
> Hope you don't mind.   
> In the mean time, don't forget to give kudos or comment! I'd love to have feed back and know what you guys liked/disliked.   
> Thanks :)


	3. Chapter 3

Grantaire leaves Ariel with Enjolras while he goes and gets both his and Ariel's things. It doesn't help that Jehan went on a crash shopping trip with out Grantaire or Ariel being informed, coming back with the most weirdest children's clothes Grantaire had ever seen. Ariel seemed to like it though. Currently, he was bundled up in a fuzzy sweater that's a weird color somewhere between gray or black, covered in pink and green kittens. He's also wearing bright orange tights. Grantaire decided he wouldn't ask. Enjolras seemed to like them. Or maybe he just liked the fact that Ariel was making his own style. Or because of something to do with accepted gender norms of society as related to clothing. Grantaire decided not to ask about that either. So far, Grantaire was getting the air mattress because he refused to take Enjolras's bed, and Enjolras didn't want to make Ariel sleep on that the entire week, so Enjolras was _sharing_  with Grantaire to give Ariel his own comfy bed, and Grantaire was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he and Enjolras would be sleeping in the same bed for an  _entire week_. He was also trying to cope with the sight of Enjolras and Ariel from the door way, and trying to cope with both of them at once was slowly making his head explode. 

Enjolras was swinging Ariel around, and Ariel was giggling, his curls bouncing. 

"'Jolras!" He shrieked, writhing, and Enjolras laughed. Grantaire felt something in heart twist painfully, and he set the suitcases down with a thump. Enjolras froze, still holding Ariel upside down, and the sight made Grantaire want to laugh. 

"His face is going red. He's not going to have any blood left in his legs if you keep holding him like that," he tries to say, as dry as possible, and perhaps he succeeds a bit too well, because Enjolras sets him down, and Ariel looks chagrined. He feels his heart drop. Right. He clears his throat, and picks the suitcases back up. "Where do I keep these?" Enjolras takes Ariel's hand and leads them both into the second bedroom, which used to obviously be a study. Ariel tugs at his sweater sleeves, his eyes widening at the bookshelves. He looks so awed that Grantaire hesitates, before saying, "You can check out the books. If you want. With, um...with Enjolras's permission."

Enjolras smiles softly at him, and Ariel looks at them for a long moment, which Grantaire understands because he sees it in himself. He's waiting for the catch, the trick. "Go on then." He says gruffly, and Ariel starts, shuffling obediently over to the bookshelf and running his fingers down the spines. Enjolras is beaming at him, and Grantaire heart starts to do acrobatics in his chest. His cheeks go red, and he clears his throat again, turning to the suitcases and unzipping them. They start unpacking and Grantaire is so caught up in it that he doesn't notice that Ariel's already picked up a book until he looks up and finds Ariel curled up like a cat in Enjolras's desk chair, already a couple of pages into The Social Contract. Grantaire bursts out laughing, and the sound makes both Enjolras and Ariel jump. 

"What?" Enjolras says frowning, and Grantaire points to the book, which Ariel snaps closed, turning red. 

"Oh my god, you've already got him converted. Hurry, somebody get the kid some Kierkegaard!"

Enjolras shoves him, and for a moment, Grantaire feels normal again. "Oh, shut up. We're not turning the poor kid into a nihilist."

"Even worse would be to turn him into an optimist." 

"I told you, it's not optimism, it's realism. The People will rise. They just need to be taught-"

"Enjolras, you can't teach every single person out there to go against their inherent selfish nature-"

"People aren't inherently selfish! They're good! Everybody is born good, it's just that society's corruption gets taught to them, and..." 

"Rosseau says that ' _There is no man so bad that he cannot be made good for something,'_ '" interupts Ariel. Enjolras snaps and points to him, and Ariel shrinks, though Enjolras is too far gone to notice. 

"Exactly! Look at, Grantaire, even your kid says so-"

"He's been brainwashed, I knew it was a bad idea to leave him alone with you. And besides, even if you employ the principles of Rosseau, it's statistically unlikely that you can manage to convert the majority of the entire world, which is basically what your going up against, because the only time people are willing to accept that things are socially acceptable is when the majority of the population is with it--"

"You're wrong. Individuals are unique, they can't possibly go with all of society for everything, or else we'd end up being just like everyone else." Grantaire opens his mouth to retort, but Enjolras cuts him off. "You're wrong, and I'm hungry. I'm going to go set up lunch." 

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "Doesn't Combeferre cook for you?" 

Enjolras narrows his eyes at him, looking like he's refraining from making a rude gesture for Ariel's sake, and Grantaire laughs as he stalks off, miffed. 

There's a moment where Grantaire goes back to unpacking his clothes, smiling to himself, until Ariel says quietly, "Please don't take me away from Enjolras." Grantaire's gaze snaps up. Ariel looks down at his book, which is still closed, and his hands are white knuckled on the cover. "I promise I won't read this again, and I won't talk back again, and I'm  _sorry,_ I promise I'll be good, just please don't take me from Enjolras." 

Grantaire stares at him, uncomprehending, until he remembers the part where he told Enjolras that this was a bad idea, albeit jokingly, and purses lips. He forgot for a moment how new this all was, not to mention how young Ariel is. He sighs, walking over, and Ariel curls up into himself again. Grantaire kneels in front of him, because this is something Ariel needs to understand. 

"Listen, Ariel, if you even become half the man Enjolras is, you'd be thrice the man I am. I am the last person you have to worry about for taking you away from him. So read that book, learn from it, learn from him. You need a good role model, and I know I'm not one.  _He_ is. Jehan is. Hell, take any one of the Les Amis and follow them around. I won't stop you. Okay?" 

Ariel looked at him with wide eyes, and nodded, and Grantaire nodded, suddenly feeling awkward. 

"Now come on. Enjolras is probably about to set fire to our lunch or something." It's almost automatic, the way he holds out his hand, and this time, when Ariel takes it without flinching, steady and sure, it makes warmth flare up in his chest. 

So sue him, it's not all bad. 

\------

He doesn't know how it started, after the lazy ease of this afternoon, but it does, and they're fighting. Enjolras's eyes are like daggers, and Grantaire feels every single word he says pierce into his chest, leaving behind an aching sting. 

"You're such a pessimist! What's wrong with you, why can't you believe in anything good?"

"Because there isn't any in the world, Enjolras, and once you realize that, you're going to be in for a hard fall! You're so naive, it's going to get you killed one day!"

"So what are we supposed to do, get lost in a bottle like you do? God, you're so stupid! We both know you could be better than this, but you're too scared! It's pathetic!" 

All of a sudden, Grantaire feels hollow. His shoulders fall, and it's sheer force of will that makes him still meet Enjolras's eyes. "You're right, Enjolras. I am pathetic. I'm sorry you expected anything different." 

And, Jesus Christ, he knew he said he'd stop but his entire being is just aching and he can see that look on Enjolras face again, and,  _fuck_ , he needs a drink. The door slams behind him. 

By the time he gets to the bar, he can't even bring himself to properly drink. After two shots, he's too overwhelmed by the look of fear he knows is going to be on Ariel's face when he smells the drink on his clothes, and he doesn't order another one, heading outside. He suddenly feels like he's sinking again, and at the same times he feels oddly light, as if his body is hollow. It's the worst feeling. It's the feeling he usually gets when he hates himself too much to even try to cry. 

_You're a horrible father._

_You're incapable of belief in anything!_

_You're pathetic!_

Even though these are Enjolras's words, it's not just Enjolras's voice he hears it in, but all of the rest of his friends, an echo of a future when they realize he's not good enough. He wanders the city, trying to reach the surface when he's drowning in his thoughts, and by four am, he's too tired to think or feel anymore. He heads to Enjolras's wearily, his stomach curling with dread as he realizes the fact that they have to share a bed. He goes up the stairs, searching his pockets for the key that Enjolras gave him, and then remembering that it's inside, and groaning quietly to himself. The only thing he has with him is his wallet. And he knows Enjolras is going to be mad if he rings the doorbell at four am, but he's way too tired to climb the fire escape and he's partially wondering exactly why it would be a bad idea to fall asleep on the floor outside the door. He leans against the wall and jumps when the he realizes he accidentally pressed the door bell, but it's too late, and Grantaire can already hear shuffling inside. 

Grantaire looks down at his shoes when the door opens. He feels ashamed, every inch as pathetic as Enjolras says he is, but when the door opens, Enjolras looks awake, albeit barely, and if Grantaire wasn't feeling so tired and pitiful he might have internally combusted at the sight of the hipster glasses perched on his nose. 

"Hey," Enjolras says softly. 

"I...I know. I wasn't going to ring, I just forgot my keys and accidentally pressed the doorbell, and I know you don't want me here, hell, it's more than I was expecting that you took care of Ariel this long, but we'll be out of your hair tommorow morning and-"

"Grantaire." Enjolras reaches toward him, and he tenses, and Enjolras lets his hand drop, clearing his throat. "I'm not going to kick you and Ariel out. I promised you a week, didn't I? Come to bed." Grantaire crosses the threshold hesitantly, toeing off his shoes and following Enjolras into the bedroom, waiting for the catch. 

Enjolras falls into bed, and Grantaire feels weird slipping into a t-shirt and pajama pants, because he usually sleeps in his boxers, but that's definitely not something he's going to try while sleeping next to Enjolras. As it is, it's not that big of a bed. When he finally gets the nerve to crawl in, Enjolras turns over and faces him, and his heart does cartwheels in his chest. He can feel Enjolras's heat underneath the covers, and his face is just a few inches away. The dark makes his voice sound more intimate than he probably intends it to be as he says, "We scared Ariel by shouting. It took me an hour to find him." 

Grantaire yawns, his body already succumbing to the comfort of a bed, but vaguely, he feels his heart grow a bit heavy. They'd been making _progress_ this afternoon. He ruined all of it. As usual. He tries for casual, but his voice sound off key when he says lightly, "Kitchen cupboards?" 

Enjolras pauses, then nods. "We're going to have to stop fighting so much." 

Grantaire tries not to scoff. Like that's going to happen. He's been trying to stop since the first time Enjolras speared him with his fiery gaze and exposed his severe lack of worth. He knows that trying is going to end in inevitable dissapointment, but he doesn't want to say that now. He sighs into his pillow. "Tommorow. We'll talk." 

Enjolras lets out a breath. "Okay."

And Grantaire's sure he says something else, but he's too busy sleeping to actually hear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's super short, especially after so long, but writing this chapter was like giving birth, I swear to god. But it's a step in the right-ish direction for Grantaire and Ariel, huh? And a step in the wrong direction for Enjolras and Grantaire, but that's nothing new. Those two oblivious fools.   
> Anyway...Like? Don't Like? Absolutely Hate? Let me know in the comments!   
> You can prompt me at thesenseinnonsense.tumblr.com! Come on over!


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